


Spring Returns

by elwinfortuna



Category: The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Family Feels, Gen, Introspection, Reunions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-14
Updated: 2021-02-14
Packaged: 2021-03-13 11:34:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 789
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29277798
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elwinfortuna/pseuds/elwinfortuna
Summary: Legolas returns from years of adventure.
Relationships: Legolas Greenleaf & Thranduil
Comments: 12
Kudos: 36
Collections: Chocolate Box - Round 6





	Spring Returns

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Neurotoxia](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Neurotoxia/gifts).



> Takes place in roughly the year 1300 of the Third Age. Legolas is meant to be around 2700 years old at this point; Thranduil is over 5000.

Twenty years is not a long time in the perspective of an elf. To Thranduil, born in Doriath before its fall, it should have been the merest blink of an eye. 

But rather, when he hears, one late winter's day, that his son is even now on the borders of the Greenwood, returning to his home, twenty years feels like an eternity, and he wonders how Legolas might be changed, how much he himself has changed in that time. 

At first, the answer seems to be little, or not at all. Legolas still holds himself proudly. An easy smile still comes to his face, and his eyes light up to see his father. 

Thranduil descends from his throne, casting his long cloak down, and takes Legolas's face between his palms, staring at him for a long moment before leaning in to kiss him on the forehead. 

"Welcome home, my son," he says, and Legolas answers with a look, rather than in words, taking his father's hands in his own and kissing them, a gesture of both affection and fealty. 

It is not until much later, until the stars are shining and the wine is flowing at the evening feast, held outside despite the winter's chill, that Thranduil asks where his son has been. 

Legolas laughs. "I have been walking over the world, Father," he says, earnestly but lightly, pausing to look about him, smiling at the merry dancing of several young Elves nearby. 

"And what have you seen, my son?" Thranduil asks. 

"Much that is fair," Legolas answers, "and much that was once fair but now is lost. Deserts grow where once forests marched. There is darkness in the Northern Mountains. The Mountains are stiff with orcs of every description, and I was hard put to it to cross into Eriador. I came fleeing into the Valley of Rivendell near ten years ago with trolls at my heels, though they were quickly dispatched by Elrond and his mighty sons." 

Legolas stops speaking, looking around himself, and then back at Thranduil. "And there is a darkness here in the Greenwood too." 

"I know of what you speak," Thranduil says. "A Dark Power has been growing in the shadows of Amon Lanc, my father's once-fair stronghold. I sent scouts once, but they did not return. There are rumours among Men that a Necromancer dwells there, one who uses the dead bodies of mortals to his own purposes."

"I meet an Istar in Rivendell," Legolas says, looking thoughtful. "A wizard, he called himself. Mithrandir, the folk of Imladris called him, one of the Maiar, all clad in grey. I wonder if this Necromancer is one of their kind, but evil, who they have come to defeat?" 

"It may be so." Thranduil lays a hand on Legolas's shoulder. "But tell me of the fair things you have seen and not the grievous news and ill tidings only!"

The cloud clears from Legolas's brow. "One summer I climbed the heights of the Misty Mountains and stood atop Silvertine. The world spread out before me, all the lands at my feet. I fancied I could even see, far off on the edge of the world, a faint glimmer of the Sea. Though much is lost, I could see so much beauty yet in Middle-earth." 

Thranduil thinks he can see the beauty of the world reflected in Legolas's eyes, dwelling in the light of his face, in the brightness that lingers all about him. For himself, the world has long held little interest beyond the borders of his lands, but he can recall a time when he was eager to travel, to see what delights the lands held, to glory in the sight of mountains and vast plains. All that adventurous spirit died at Daglorad; Thranduil is thankful that Legolas was left behind to rule in place of his grandfather then. 

Legolas's eyes should always be open to see the world bright and fair, Thranduil thinks. His mind should be bent on adventure, his heart devoted to beauty. 

Right then and there, he decides that Legolas shall always be free to go where he will, even to Valinor if he so desires. His bright son shall never be bound to a life under the fading trees. 

"You brought back the Spring when you returned," Thranduil murmurs -- it is a line from an old, old poem -- and Legolas beams up at him, delighted, still under the spell of his own memory. 

"In that case, I will leave again soon, just for the pleasure of returning home," he quips, and then sets his empty wine glass aside and gets up, going to join the dancing. 

Thranduil watches him, a smile on his face, while overhead the stars burn.


End file.
